Maidenhead

Aaron kissed my forehead. ‘You smell good,’ he said. ‘Like rosehip rustic rummy delight.’

Then he started kissing down my nose, then over my top lip. All of a sudden he was on my mouth and we were kissing. I felt his tongue in my mouth. I smelled our beer. We did that for a while until I shifted away.

‘I don’t know,’ I said. I felt weird all of a sudden.

‘It’s cool, it’s cool. You’re amazing. Whatever.’

I closed my eyes and Aaron started reading out loud. I focused on his hands. The knuckles were purple and over-cracked.

‘“Love is a sign of our wretchedness,”’ Aaron read. ‘“God can only love himself. We can only love something else.”’

‘Uhm-hum,’ I said, in the middle of a wave. I suddenly felt too drunk all over again. I’d screamed at Jen downstairs, fucked up our entire relationship, and I’d just made out with Aaron for no reason.

(LEE: Yo yo yo! Don’t forget about me. You saw me. We communed.)

I covered my mouth so that nothing would come out. Aaron looked at me funny. I had to go to sleep.

‘I know I just met you,’ Aaron whispered. My eyes tried to keep open. ‘But there’s this space in me, I hope it’s not too wretched to say it ... Uh, there’s this space in me, kind of opening up ... Like, I think that space is opening up in me to love you.’

I grunted.

‘It’s okay,’ Aaron said. He turned me on my side, off my back. ‘This will be your position tonight.’

Aaron was being so nice to me. But I didn’t feel a thing falling into his bed. I wanted to make out with Elijah. Elijah naked, a god. God can only love himself. I can only love something else.

‘Myra? Are you okay? Your cheek is kind of bleeding or something. Wake up for a sec.’

I’d left a note for my father saying that I was sleeping at Jen’s but I’d already spent my cab fare contributing to the keg. Now I was trying to remember the minutes before I got drunk. Pissing, falling around in the bathroom at Jen’s while Jen and Charlene were putting on rouge. The flask had been filled up again and was drained. We three in a cab. Me on Jen’s lap. The driver’s bad eyes. I was going to vomit.

Aaron stroked something damp on my forehead, then he dabbed into my cheek. It felt freaky, like my head had no neck.

‘It’s okay now, it’s okay. You don’t have to wake up.’

I must’ve passed out. There was smoke and rose smell. Aaron had a bathroom right off his bedroom. Shadows were coming in and out. I could see them through my eyelids.

‘I like this strain,’ a girl said. That was her from downstairs, I knew.

‘You’re not going to test it all tonight, are you, dudes?’ Aaron laughed.

‘We’ve got lots to bag up,’ a guy said. ‘The party next week.’

‘For King Anarchist.’ Again, that was her. The blue-lit calf from downstairs.

The smoke was perfumed.

‘What’s up with that chick with the Rasta necklace?’ the girl said.

‘She’s an angel,’ someone said.

An angel? God, no. I couldn’t open my eyes. If I opened my eyes they’d spill over like eggs.

‘Her face is bleeding.’

‘She’s fine, Lee. All good.’ Aaron’s fingers touched my forehead. It was soaked. All I wanted was to open my eyes. All I wanted was to vomit my thoughts.

‘She doesn’t look so hot, I mean I think ... ’

There was a violent push up and I felt myself gag. My eyes still didn’t open but I could see pearly white. All over my chin there was hair and hot fizz.